Chapter 8
I stared at the phone after Camille said Victor's name.
My mother had called him.
Not my father.
Not emergency services.
Victor Hale.
The same man who helped separate me from Serena.
The same man who threatened the mother of my child.
The same man who had spent years protecting my father's secrets.
I felt sick.
"Why would she call him?"
Camille answered carefully.
"We don't know yet."
"Was he at the lake house?"
"The records suggest he may have been nearby, but we need confirmation."
I closed my eyes.
For fifteen years, I'd believed my mother died suddenly while alone.
Now I had evidence she was experiencing symptoms.
That she had tried to leave.
And that Victor had been involved.
I wanted answers immediately.
But Camille reminded me that medical records and old timelines could be incomplete.
We needed to distinguish facts from assumptions.
I agreed.
The next day, Camille helped coordinate a formal review of the available records.
We obtained additional documents through appropriate legal channels.
Medical notes.
Emergency response records.
Statements.
Old property logs.
The process was slow.
But every piece mattered.
One afternoon, Daniel Price, the forensic accountant, found another connection.
A large transfer from my mother's trust had occurred two days before her death.
The recipient was Carter Heritage Holdings.
The amount was $1.8 million.
I stared at the number.
"One point eight million?"
Daniel nodded.
"That's what the records show."
I felt dizzy.
My father had always claimed the trust contained less than half a million dollars.
Now I knew that wasn't true.
Camille explained that the transfer required further examination.
We couldn't assume it was unauthorized solely because I hadn't known about it.
But combined with my mother's letter, it raised serious concerns.
I looked at her.
"Can we challenge it?"
"Yes. We'll pursue a full accounting and the appropriate legal remedies."
I nodded.
For the first time, I felt like the truth might actually be reachable.
Meanwhile, Lily was settling into Atlanta.
Serena had rented a small townhouse near a good elementary school.
I helped with the move.
Not because I wanted to control where they lived.
Because I wanted to be present.
Lily insisted I carry her stuffed animals first.
"Snowball needs to see the house!"
I laughed.
"Of course he does."
She ran through the empty rooms.
Then stopped in the smallest bedroom.
"This one!"
Serena smiled.
"You haven't seen the others."
Lily shook her head.
"I like this one."
I looked around.
The room had a large window.
Sunlight filled the space.
I smiled.
"Good choice."
Lily looked at me.
"Daddy, can you help paint it?"
My throat tightened.
"Absolutely."
She grinned.
"Purple!"
Serena laughed.
"Of course."
That weekend, we painted Lily's room lavender.
I got paint on my shirt.
On my hands.
And somehow on my forehead.
Lily laughed so hard she nearly fell over.
Serena took photographs.
For a few hours, I forgot about the investigation.
I forgot about my father.
I forgot about Victor.
I was simply painting my daughter's bedroom.
And it felt like the most important work I'd ever done.
That evening, after Lily fell asleep, Serena and I sat on the porch.
She looked at me.
"Thank you."
I smiled.
"For what?"
"For showing up."
My throat tightened.
"I should have been here from the beginning."
She shook her head.
"You didn't know."
I looked down.
"Still."
She touched my hand.
"Adrian, we can't give ourselves back the years we lost."
I nodded.
"But we can decide what happens next."
I looked at her.
She smiled softly.
For the first time, I saw a little of the woman I'd fallen in love with.
Not because she'd changed.
Because fear was finally beginning to leave her face.
Then my phone rang.
Camille.
I answered.
"Hello?"
"Adrian, we have significant news."
I stood.
"What happened?"
"The records indicate that emergency services were called later than your mother's first reported symptoms."
My stomach tightened.
"How much later?"
"Several hours."
I closed my eyes.
"Why?"
"We don't know yet."
She continued.
"The available evidence also suggests Victor was contacted during that period."
I gripped the phone.
"Did he go to the house?"
"There's evidence he arrived before emergency services."
I felt cold.
Camille's voice remained steady.
"Adrian, we're referring these findings to the appropriate authorities for review."
I nodded.
I couldn't speak.
Then she added something important.
"Please don't confront your father or Victor."
"I won't."
"And remember, the records don't establish criminal responsibility by themselves."
"I understand."
After the call, Serena approached.
"What happened?"
I looked at her.
"They may have waited too long to call for help."
Her face changed.
"Oh, Adrian."
I sat down.
For a moment, I couldn't hold the tears back.
My mother might have needed help.
And the people around her might not have acted quickly enough.
I didn't know whether that delay caused her death.
But I knew she deserved answers.
Serena sat beside me.
She didn't try to explain.
She didn't tell me everything would be okay.
She simply held my hand.
And for the first time in years, I let someone see how much I was hurting.
The investigation into my mother's death was reopened for review.
The authorities examined the records and interviewed available witnesses.
Mrs. Jenkins provided her statement.
Camille shared the financial documents.
Victor's role was examined.
My father was questioned.
I waited.
Not patiently.
But carefully.
I refused to let speculation become accusation.
I wanted the truth established.
Then one morning, Camille called.
Her voice sounded different.
"Adrian, the investigators have reached an important finding."
My heart pounded.
"What?"
"The evidence suggests your mother requested medical assistance before the emergency call was made."
I closed my eyes.
"Who knew?"
Camille paused.
"Victor acknowledged receiving her call."
My stomach dropped.
"And?"
"He says he told your father."
I gripped the edge of the table.
I couldn't breathe.
Then Camille continued.
"Your father disputes parts of that timeline."
I stared at the wall.
For fifteen years, my father had told me my mother died suddenly with no warning.
May you like
Now he was being confronted with evidence that contradicted his story.
And I knew the next chapter of my life would depend on what the investigation uncovered.
